


Options you can handle

by KinkMeme_KinkFest_Archiver



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Bad Ending, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinkMeme_KinkFest_Archiver/pseuds/KinkMeme_KinkFest_Archiver





	Options you can handle

It had been a long day at work, the kind Dojima preferred. Huge stacks of paperwork to handle, no cases that weren't clear as day, all of them liable to be wrapped up within the week, and no lunch break. He didn't get to leave until well past eleven, getting into the car barely awake enough to drive.  
  
Dojima kicked off his shoes and dropped his briefcase on the floor when he walked in the door, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside as well as he went straight to the fridge. He pulled out a six-pack with three empty rings, removing a can and sitting down at the kitchen table, cracking it open with a sigh.   
  
His eyes roamed around the room before being drawn to the flashing light on the answering machine next to the phone. Someone had called him at home? Well, he never checked his cell phone, anyway, so it didn't matter. Dojima left the beer on the table and went to see who had called.  
  
Beep. “Hi, Uncle, I know it's been a long time, but... I've decided to visit everyone in Inaba. I hope it's okay if I stay with you. My train gets in on Tuesday evening at...”  
  
Dojima froze. Souji was coming? Tomorrow evening? Shit, the house was a mess. He hadn't really done a full clean-up job since – well, for a long time. There wasn't any food in the fridge. He didn't have the time for this.  
  
Tuesday evening found Dojima at the train station with two umbrellas, one over his head and one folded under his arm. He'd asked for a few days off and had been given it the moment the request was out of his mouth. “Finally,” the chief had said. He'd been riding on Dojima to take time off since the Namatame case.  
  
The autumn rains were taking their toll, leaving everything in shades of gray and brown. The fall colours had started off all red and gold, but by now all the leaves had fallen and were being trodden underfoot, a wet and squelchy mess.  
  
Anxiety began to pound at the front of his skull since he'd gotten to the station thirty minutes earlier, but as soon as he could see the train coming Dojima began to feel downright sick. He hadn't prepared for this. What was he going to say? God, they would end up talking about her, and Souji would ask if he was okay, and Dojima would lie and they would go back to the house.   
  
Souji was the first one out of the train. “Uncle!” he called, waving as he hurried down the steps and fair ran towards Dojima, duffel bag under one arm.  
  
Souji dropped his bag, clasping both of his uncle's hands in greeting, squeezing a little extra just before he let go. He seemed to be searching Dojima's face, maybe looking for extra wrinkles, visible signs of things Dojima wouldn't say. “It's been a long time.”  
  
Dojima nodded, and tried to smile. “Yes, it has.” He offered Souji an umbrella.  
  
Souji took the proffered umbrella, opening it as he spoke. “So – how has it been? Are you –”  
  
“The car is parked over there,” Dojima interrupted, pointing a thumb in the direction of his vehicle.  
  
Souji seemed taken aback. “Yeah. Okay.”  
  
They drove back home in silence.

“Sorry about the mess,” Dojima said as he opened the door. He had a bunch of grocery bags with him that he'd taken from the car. He'd gone shopping on the way to picking up his nephew so they would have something to eat. “I never get around to cleaning.”  
  
The place was completely different from how it had been when Souji had left, but he seemed to take it in stride, like he did everything else. He took off his shoes and placed them neatly against the wall. There was a bare spot where a pair of smaller shoes had been, right in the corner. Souji left it respectfully untouched.  
  
The living room was strewn with dirty clothes, dirty dishes, and all manner of paperwork. The TV was still on, volume turned to a low hum, and Dojima switched it off the moment he got in. The kitchen fared worse – dishes piled as high as they would go, odds and ends piled on the dinner table. Dojima pulled out a chair from the table, knocking a couple of books and a pair of crumpled slacks off it onto the floor before motioning for Souji to take a seat. Souji scanned the collection on the dinner table – day-old toast, empty ramen cups, a bunch of empty beer cans and an overflowing ashtray. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos was a single cup on a saucer – Souji peered into it, sniffing it cautiously – it was coffee, and probably had been sitting there for days, untouched.  
  
Dojima noticed Souji's attention to the cup, but made no comment. He put the perishables from his groceries in the fridge, leaving the rest in the bags in the floor. “Want a beer?”   
  
Souji looked up. That was right, he was old enough, now. “Sure.”  
  
Dojima got a beer for himself and Souji before sitting himself down opposite his nephew, loosening his tie, opening the beer and taking a drink with the ease of ritual.  
  
Dojima supposed he could have asked why Souji was here instead of in class – this definitely wasn't holiday time, right now – his sister had told him that the kid had gotten into Tokyo U, no surprise there with that kid's brains – but if Dojima started asking questions then Souji would start asking questions, and Dojima would rather leave all of that well enough alone.   
  
Souji seemed to understand that, partly, at least, and the two of them sat in silence punctuated only by Dojima opening and closing the fridge and the cracking of beer cans.   
  
Two cans later for Souji, three for Dojima, and Souji finally spoke up. “Can I call you Ryotaro?”  
  
Dojima was rather taken aback by the strange request, but after a moment he only shrugged. The kid wasn't a kid anymore, after all, and he wasn't who he had been, either. Why not. “Go ahead.”  
  
Souji nodded and didn't say anything else.  
  
Eventually Souji started nodding off and Dojima told him that his room was just as he'd left it so go on ahead. Souji bid his uncle good night before trundling off to bed, taking has bag with him.

At some unnameable hour of the night, Souji was awoken by his bladder. He relieved himself in the bathroom, still feeling some of the effects of the alcohol, and was about to go back upstairs when the quiet drone of the TV on low volume prompted him down the stairs.

Dojima was on the couch, head curled over, clearly asleep. Souji padded into the living room, noticing the empty beer cans scattered on the floor at Dojima's feet. The low table was clear, though, empty except for a single cup of untouched coffee.

Souji paused, there, almost touching the cup but drawing back, instead turning around to switch off the TV.

A rustle. “Hnn?” Dojima awoke, bleary. “Nanako?”

Souji stood in the dark, still facing the television. “It's me, Uncle.”

Dojima was silent behind him and Souji paused, hesitant. He shifted his feet, intending to turn around.

“Don't.” The single word was broken, a cut-off rasp muffled from behind damp hands. Still drunk, more than a little desperate, Dojima didn't want to show Souji anything.

Souji didn't move, didn't say anything. What would he do? Say 'it wasn't your fault'? 'It's all gonna be okay'? There was any number of bullshit phrases he could spout, phrases he'd spouted in the past to comfort people, because that was the thing he was supposed to say, or because that was how he'd get what he wanted.

So much bullshit. And Souji didn't know what was true, not anymore. Not after everything that had happened, here in Inaba.

Excuses and apologies were all worthless, and wouldn't replace what was gone, couldn't fix what had been broken. Souji went back upstairs.

He dreamed in fragments. In one Souji saw the face of the killer, someone who wasn't Namatame. He'd forget it as soon as he woke up. In another fragment Nanako was still alive, in middle school now, and in another fragment Souji saw silver hair and a wicked smile underneath the brim of a cap.

All of these were soon slammed into insignificance with the sudden realization. He knew what had to be done. He struggled out of bed, and pounded downstairs, the noise startling Dojima out of his slumber.

“Souji, what –”

Souji grabbed his uncle by the wrists and kissed him hard enough to rattle both of their bones. Dojima's lips were unresponsive at first, still, but rolled with it, working against Souji's mouth and leaning back so Souji could slide into his lap and unbutton Dojima's shirt. Dojima's hands were all over him, neck, chest, hips, down to grip his thighs, rubbing his thumbs in through the cloth of Souji's pyjama pants so close to his crotch but never close enough.

Souji was hard already, his erection blatant through his cotton-soft pants. Dojima grunted, his large hands feeling their way up under Souji's shirt, and Souji moved in closer, close enough to grind his cock into Dojima's lap and feel that he was hard too. He wanted them to touch, skin against skin, wanted to lay his own cock against Dojima's and fist them both together and make Dojima come so hard he'd forget anything, everything.

Souji settled for wrestling off Dojima's belt and tugging down his pants and boxers. Dojima had to squirm a bit to make it work, but it was worth it to see Dojima's erection hard and weeping in the dark in front of him.

Dojima gasped when Souji went down on him, spreading his knees to let Souji take everything into his mouth, Souji working his lips and his tongue over the head and length of Dojima's cock. Souji could taste sweat and come, his mouth tight over Dojima's cock as his hands grazed the hairs of Dojima's thighs, the cool night air forming goose pimples over Dojima's skin.

Souji was hard enough to burn now, and he left off, crawling back up to Dojima's lap to set his ass against Dojima's slick cock. This would hurt but Souji didn't care, sinking himself onto Dojima with a low moan, feeling the stretch and the burn. He began to move immediately, jerking himself up and down in small, tight, motions, hands on Dojima's shoulders for balance. Dojima took Souji's cock with one hand, squeezing, circling his thumb over the wet tip as his other hand splayed against his nephew's chest, thumb rolling over Souji's nipple in time. This room was cold, too cold, but Souji felt hot, his thighs burning, the full sensation in his gut pulsing as Dojima ground hard inside of him. Dojima's mouth was open, gasping, and Souji moved one hand from Dojima's shoulder to his cheek, stroking the stubble, slipping his thumb into Dojima's mouth.

Then Dojima was thumbing the slit in his cock and Souji came, hard, squeezing tight around Dojima to have him following within moments. Souji pressed his come-slick stomach against his uncle's as he leaned forward, replacing his thumb with his lips as he took Dojima's mouth, still jerking his hips against Dojima's crotch in the last tremors of orgasm.

“Ryotaro,” Souji moaned, still somewhere in the juncture between sleep and awake, hand down his pyjama pants against his spent cock under the sticky sheets in his bed.

xxx  
  
Souji stayed for a few days, greeting all the local Inaba faces before making his way back to the train station. Dojima saw him off, umbrella in hand – it was raining again – the usual somber expression on his face.

“It was nice, having you here,” Dojima said.

Souji nodded. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I'll be fine,” Dojima said as the last whistle blew. It was time for Souji to go.

“I'll come and visit again soon,” Souji said, taking Dojima's hand for one last firm shake before he boarded the train.

It was best for the both of them to lie.


End file.
